


Healing Hearts With Christmas Slippers

by RagingBookDragon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Shopping, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28101345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: “And let you have all the fun in Boston without me?” She started tugging him towards the general store. “Not on your life, sweetheart.”“So, I am to assume you joined me because you wished to spend time with me?” he teased, grinning when her face pinched.“Don’t get a big head.” She shot back but let out a scoff. “Oh, who am I kidding? You have a big head anyways.”“I do not,” he responded indignantly, self-consciously reaching up to prod at his skull.
Relationships: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor & Reader, Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Healing Hearts With Christmas Slippers

**Author's Note:**

> Day 15 of The Christmas Fics! I hope you're enjoying these so far! -Thorne

Being in Boston during the middle of winter wasn’t Connor’s ideal way of spending the day, but duty called. He shook the hand of the last messenger and departed along the way for the delivery. With the money he gained from it, he could put it towards his own personal needs, but as he made his way, (Y/N) drifted into his mind and a memory pulled at him.

*******

“I don’t understand why it has to snow so much,” she complained, huffing with irritation as she pulled the winter coat tighter around her. “Why can’t we have warm weather.”

Connor gave her a smile as he directed her out of the way of a group of soldiers. “Because _summer_ has passed. It is _winter_ now, (Y/N).”

She shot him a glare. “ _I know_ _that_ , Ratonhnhaké:ton. The question was _rhetorical_.” Her eyes drifted to one of the firepits the people were gathered around, and she resisted the urge to shove herself headfirst into it. Third degree or not, anything was better than freezing her butt off in the middle of the port in Boston.

Grumbling, she raised her shoulders, tugging at the knit cap she wore. “ _Too_ _cold_ in Boston. Should be curled up in blankets at the house.”

He chuckled. “You did not have to come with me, Otsi’tsa. I could have completed the shopping trip on my own.”

(Y/N) scoffed and reached down, taking his hand in hers. “And let _you_ have all the fun in Boston _without me_?” She started tugging him towards the general store. “ _Not on your life_ , _sweetheart_.”

“So, I am to assume you joined me because you wished to spend time with me?” he teased, grinning when her face pinched.

“Don’t get a big head.” She shot back but let out a scoff. “Oh, who am I kidding? You have a big head anyways.”

“ _I do not_ ,” he responded indignantly, self-consciously reaching up to prod at his skull.

“ _Really_? So, all those times that you’ve clearly enjoyed proving you—”

(Y/N) went silent, her footsteps skidding to a halt as they passed by a shop and Connor looked at her.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

She didn’t respond, pulling away from him to hurry into the store. He stared at her incredulously and followed, the warmth of the store a welcome from the cold outside.

He watched her pick up a pair of baby-blue, silk slippers with careful hands, gently turning them over for examination. Briefly he thought about the slippers she wore around at home, patches sewn into the sides where they’d worn down. Her eyes shone with joy as she glanced down at her own boots and compared the sizes, but when she caught sight of the tag on them, Connor watched her face drop.

“Do you want those?” he asked, and she bit her lip, before letting out a sigh.

“Like I need to breathe,” (Y/N) joked, but her tone was pitiful as she put them back on the box. “Unfortunately, that price is _not_ in my paygrade.”

Connor glanced at the tag, eyes widening at the expense. A hundred pounds for a pair of shoes was _obscene_ in his opinion, but when he took in the account of the silk and the silver buckles, it made sense.

Her shoulders drooped and detachedly, she said, “Maybe I can ask the owner to hold them for me and come back later.”

Something in her tone told him that she wasn’t holding out a giant hope that the owner would agree to her request or that they would be there when she returned.

He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “I am sure they will be here for a while, (Y/N).”

She gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded. “You’re right. Even if they’re not, I’ve still got my pair at home.” She squeezed his hand in return. “Let’s go to the general store. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Anything Connor wanted to say would’ve fallen on deaf ears and with a heavy feeling in his chest, he watched her leave disheartened.

*******

Connor glanced down the street and smiled as he pocketed the money from the delivery, suddenly knowing what to spend the money on. Five hundred pounds was more than enough to buy the slippers, and he could only imagine the joy on (Y/N)’s face when she opened them Christmas morning. He hurried down the road, weaving in and out of crowds until he came to the shoe store.

As he stepped inside, he glanced towards the window where the slippers had been, only to discover them gone. He frowned, walking to the store owner.

“Excuse me,” he said, pointing to the window. “There were a pair of blue slippers in here a couple weeks ago.”

The man nodded. “Aye, there _were_.”

“Where are they _now_?” Connor inquired, praying that someone hadn’t purchased them.

“Put away for a client, I’m afraid.” The owners replied, sweeping the floor.

He felt his lungs deflate, but (Y/N)’s overjoyed expression appeared in his mind again, and with a renewed burst of determination, he took a step forward.

Connor pulled out his coin purse. “I will pay for them right now.”

The owner paused and looked up at him, brows furrowed. “Got cotton in your ears, boy? I said they’re put away.”

“Put away _does not_ mean _sold_ ,” he reasoned, and when the man opened his mouth, Connor cut him off with, “You want one hundred pounds for them? I will give you _two hundred_ right now if you let me have them.”

“Tw—two hundred pounds?” the man sputtered, and he simply nodded.

“Someone I care for has her heart set on them.” He bowed his head. “I wish to make her happy by giving them to her this winter.”

“I—” the owner started before falling silent, mulling over the deal. After a moment he sighed and nodded. “Alright. Give me a moment to go get them.”

Connor smiled and moved to the counter, watching as the man walked into the back room, eventually coming back with a shoebox. He couldn’t help but crack the box open as the owner counted out the money, relief flooding his body as the slippers lay nestled in the cloth.

*******

The shoebox fit into his pack and he slung it over his shoulder before climbing into the saddle, directing the horse in the way of the Homestead. As he headed through the streets, he happened upon a cemetery near a church. A group was gathered around a freshly dug grave and Connor briefly wondered if they perhaps had been a Patriot. His gaze shifted over the graveyard before falling on a young woman who was kneeling in the snow at a headstone, her head bowed in silent prayer. His eyes went wide—it was (Y/N).

Connor climbed down and tied the reins to the gate, quietly crossing the cemetery to her. With the snow crunching beneath his feet, she heard him coming, though by the surprised look on her face when she turned her head, she wasn’t expecting him.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she greeted, the surprise giving way to happiness as she held out her hand. “I didn’t know you were coming to Boston today.”

He knelt behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Nor I you,” he replied, smiling when she reclined in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Had some things to take care of, and thought I’d stop by and see my mother.”

Connor’s eyes drifted to the slate headstone. (Y/N) had obviously cleaned it and laid fresh flowers down. “Your mother is buried here?” he asked, and she nodded.

“She passed when I was younger,” she explained. “My father is buried in New York.”

“Why different locations?”

(Y/N) hummed. “After mother died, my father relocated us to New York.” Her eyes drifted to the city streets. “Boston just seemed so… _dark_ after her passing.” She cleared her throat, reaching out to trace the lettering. “Eventually my father remarried a young huntress. She lives in the outskirts of New York.”

A small smile graced her lips. “I should visit her soon…take _you_ with me.”

Connor frowned. “I do not think she would appreciate my being there.”

She huffed. “My stepmother is a _Cherokee_ _woman_ , Ratonhnhaké:ton. I assure you, she will _not_ mind you being there. In fact, she’ll be _overjoyed_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” was all he could manage, and she snorted, craning her neck to look at him.

“Now if you _really_ want, I can tell you _all_ about the young men from her tribe she wanted _me_ to _meet_ and possibly _marry_.”

Connor’s face pinched and he grunted at her, arms tightening ever so slightly.

She giggled. “I’m only joking, beloved…well, not exactly. She _did_ want me to meet a few of them.”

(Y/N) turned her attention back to the gravestone and let out a heavy sigh. “My father was so heartbroken when mother died…and when he met Atsila, I watched his heart heal for the first time in forever.”

“Did yours?” Connor questioned.

“ _It did_ ,” she murmured. “Atsila was never able to have children, but I think that’s what made our bond so great—I was the only child she had.” Her eyes narrowed softly. “I know that mother saw our pain and sent my stepmother to us.” (Y/N) let out a laugh. “ _Silly_ to think, but—”

“It is _not_ silly,” he said abruptly, gently taking her chin in his hand, turning her face to meet his gaze. Connor’s eyes searched hers and he said, “ _The last thing my mother said to me is that I would think myself alone but that she would be with me always_.” His thumb caressed her lip. “ _I know that she guided me to the Homestead and eventually you_.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned into his hand, a wobbly smile on her lips. (Y/N) seemed to be searching for a response, but gave an amused sigh and whispered, “ _I love you_.”

Connor pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing, “ _And I you_ , _(Y/N)_.”

Suddenly, waiting until Christmas didn’t seem to be worth it, and he pulled away, reaching for his pack. “I have something for you,” he said, and her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

“ _Ooo_ , _a present_?” she cooed. “ _Was I a good girl this yea_ r?”

He felt his cheeks warm and sent a halfhearted glare her way, but she simply laughed it off. The box rested in his hands and he passed it to her.

“I thought to wait until Christmas day, but I do not want to anymore.”

(Y/N) set the box in her lap and unwound the bow, pulling the lid off. Immediately, she slammed it back on and stared wide-eyed at him. “ _You didn’t_ ,” she blurted with disbelief, and Connor chuckled.

“I could not help but think of you.”

She opened the box again and looked inside, bewilderment spread across her face. “I can’t believe you bought these…” (Y/N) glanced at him. “ _For me_.”

“You have worked tirelessly all year, (Y/N). You deserve to be rewarded with something you genuinely wanted.” He reasoned, placing one of his hands over hers.

She huffed and shook her head, but a grin was still on her lips. “Thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

He matched her smile. “You are more than welcome, Otsi’tsa.”

She was silent a moment, admiring the slippers, then she deadpanned, “ **Well thanks to you** , **I have to buy a nice gift for you or else I’ll look like an ass**.”

“ _(Y/N)_?!”

“ ** _What_**?”


End file.
